Flight of the Caged Bird
by twilightdazzle
Summary: When Hermione Granger sees Draco Malfoy, she thinks of war and pain. He's determined to change that, and she's determined to let him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** SO...once again I planned to write a one shot but I couldn't stop writing and this is where it ended up! It's just so long I had to split it into two chapters for it to be a little easier to read. Anyway, oh lovely readers, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Hermione learned of Draco Malfoy's transfer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement through the department head and her boss, Phineus Figgins, and had a complete breakdown. She smiled stiffly at Figgins as he wondered aloud the type of contributions the younger Malfoy would make to their department, panic climbing up her throat and gnawing at her stomach all the while. Politely, she excused herself from the conversation and walked away quickly before turning the corner and breaking into a run for her office, the clicking of her black pumps against the gleaming stone floor sounding like thunder.

The heavy wooden door of her office had barely managed to slam shut behind her when she felt the familiar and unwelcome blackness creeping into the edges of her vision, the numbness slowly winding up her legs, the crushing weight collapsing onto her chest. She tried to fight off the impending hell, tried so desperately to escape the panic enveloping her, but she was gone into the darkness.

Hours must have passed before her panic attack subsided, leaving her a weakened, trembling mess on the rough carpet of the small office. Dark brown curls had tumbled free from her tight bun and laid across the floor in a wild mess, and her knees burned from the violent impact they made with the carpet when her legs had lost the inability to bear her weight. A dull, throbbing soreness wracked her petite body as she wheezed slightly for breath.

Only a name. Only a simple name had brought her to her knees and reduced her to this quivering, pathetic mess, deepening old wounds and opening old scars. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. How the name burned like acid on her tongue.

Because the last time she had seen Draco Malfoy was the day the war had descended upon her in all its violent, rancorous glory, sparing only the battered spirit of a once robust girl and clipping the wings of a fearless bird.

* * *

"Mornin' Hermione."

Lethargically, the brunette lifted her head from the pile of manila folders scattered about her desk to the source of the Irish accented voice.

"Seamus," she said with a smile, pushing her chair back to stand and hug her old friend.

Though her smile felt tight and forced and her hug lacked the type of enthusiasm usually present when one saw a childhood friend, it felt good to have familiar arms around her in a sturdy embrace. She sighed into his chest and blinked away the burn in her eyes as a heaviness rose into her chest. When they finally released one another, her smile was back in place.

"So," she began, stepping backwards to sit on the edge of her desk as Seamus leaned against the door to her office. "To what do I owe this lovely visit?"

Seamus' tanned face split into a boyish grin. "Just thought it a good day to check up on a friend. It's been ages since I've seen you, Hermione. How've you been?"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. She knew he was lying. "The sports department is clear on the other side of the Ministry, Seamus. And, from what I've heard, the department's been awfully busy lately."

"Nothing gets past you, Hermione," he said with a sheepish cough and smile. But his expression abruptly turned serious. "In all honesty though…uhh Ron sent me to here to…come check up on you, make sure everything's going okay."

He waited for her to say something, but Hermione only stared, unsure of how to respond. How like Ron to avoid having a conversation with her, even if he was concerned. _'I just don't want to talk about that shit. It's over. What else is there to discuss'_ , he had once told her, "that shit" being the war and anything relating to it.

After a moment of somewhat awkward silence, Seamus stepped further into the room, lowering his voice as he spoke. "You're not looking well, Hermione. You look tired and sick, like all your happiness has just gone, like…well, like you haven't had a good night's rest since the war ended."

As he spoke, Hermione nervously smoothed down the creases in her black pencil skirt, eyes focused intently on the absolute blackness of her office attire, heart pounding violently in her chest.

"I know it's hard with Gin being off in America and Harry doing…whatever he's doing, but if there's something you need to talk about, I would love to be there for you. Parvati as well. Ron, well, he's got a different way of dealing with it than everyone else, but it might do you some good to just…talk about it. I'm not quite sure I'll be able to understand all that you went through, but I can try."

The burn in her eyes was back, brought on by the earnestness in Seamus' brown eyes and her own crushing realization of the extent of her absolute unhappiness. Though it had been four years since the war came to a shattering halt, the emotions that came after it were quite confusing. Directly following the war, there had been no time for anything other than grief and nowhere to go to escape it. She had struggled to stay afloat for nearly a year- they all had- and there really wasn't a defining point where the piercing agony had faded into a subtle but ever present ache. Then, there had just been a numbness, a sort of drifting existence that made her feel as if her life was a movie that she could only watch and not participate in, an emptiness that seemed to permeate a deeper part of her she hadn't even known existed.

Apparently, she hadn't been the only one to feel this way because Harry had suddenly decided that he needed to escape and packed up his belongings in a mere two hours to move to the Spanish countryside. Hermione had, of course, cried when he told her of his decision, and he consoled her by telling her that it wasn't permanent, only temporary, and he needed it because he couldn't sit around with all the nasty remnants of the war and wait for those demons to move on from him; he had to move on from them. With a promise to write and visit regularly-which he did- he was gone. His departure brought an abrupt end to his and Ginny's relationship, and, in a fit of heartache, she moved to America to study and just "be in a place that doesn't hurt so much." Ron had sort of just disappeared into himself and whiskey, determined to find an out that wasn't so difficult, and Hermione only saw him when the bottle was empty.

For two years now, she existed without her three most important people, without the love that had protected her for years, and she felt exposed and raw, like a wound that had lost its scab. Her past numbness would be an almost welcome alternative to the suffocating blackness of unhappiness.

Seamus seemed to notice that Hermione was struggling to stay composed and immediately began talking again. "Have lunch with Parv and I in the cafeteria today."

Hermione shook her head. "Seamus, I'm fine really and I have so much work to do-"

"When was the last time you had lunch somewhere other than your office?" Seamus asked seriously, and Hermione's mouth opened and then shut immediately because she couldn't remember.

After a little more resistance on her part, she finally acquiesced to Seamus' demand, leading him to grin triumphantly as they walked toward the lift together. Seamus greeted friends and coworkers cheerily, the corners of his eyes crinkling in merriment, and Hermione wondered jealously how anyone who survived the war could be so untainted by it.

The lift doors finally pinged open, and Hermione settled stiffly in one of the back corners as people began to file in behind her and Seamus. It was crowded and uncomfortable, but the brunette did her best to relax. Maybe this lunch wouldn't be so bad. Parvati was always pleasant to be around and- a flash of pale blonde caught her eye. Slowly, her head turned to her left, where she was met with eyes of searing slate gray staring dead on into her own, the same eyes she'd been trying to avoid for nearly a week. A violent chill raced down her spine, and her stomach tightened and lurched, but she couldn't look away from Draco Malfoy's stern face. Her heart felt like it was striking her chest a mile a minute, her body trembling as the handsome face before her brought back all the darkness she'd been trying to hide from. Her breath was stuck in her throat.

The elevator pinged to another stop, and, as the chattering witches and wizards filed out, Seamus looked down at her. "Merlin, Hermione. Are you okay?" he asked with a concerned voice, shifting to face her fully. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Hermione's wide eyes were still focused on Draco over Seamus' shoulder, following him as he inched his way to the exit. He was still staring at her though, an elegant blonde brow arched in question and his eyes swimming with confusion despite the fact that his face was stoic. He hesitated before exiting the lift, throwing one last glance over his shoulder, before disappearing with the crowd.

"Hermione?" Seamus questioned again.

"I'm sorry, Seamus. I'll meet you in the cafeteria," she said hurriedly, tearfully, before rushing off the lift to a bathroom, making it just in time to sink to her knees and heave into the toilet.

* * *

"Shit, shit, shit," Hermione mumbled to herself as she rushed down one of the many ministry hallways, struggling with the large stack of folders and papers in her arms.

She was late for yet another meeting, an occurrence that had become quite normal in the past three weeks. Ever since the lift incident, her entire world felt like it had been knocked out of orbit. Despite her best attempts at circumventing any contact with Malfoy, his presence at meetings and random sightings in the halls were completely unavoidable. She did her best to school her reactions to his presence into cool indifference in front of others, but there were effects she couldn't control. Her nights were restless, ghosts whispering in her ears and nightmares dancing behind her eyelids, and at work she felt hopelessly frazzled and unorganized. Though the option to owl Harry or Ginny was always open, she hated to put her problems onto paper because she had _promised_ them she'd be okay if they left, unwilling to hold them back or admit to anyone but herself that she could still have problems even when the war was over. Mostly, she hated herself for letting Malfoy affect her so negatively when her ghosts had nothing to do with him.

Picking up her pace a slight bit, Hermione sighed uncomfortably at the heat. Though they were nearing May and the weather was actually quite nice, the ministry had experienced several glitches in their building wide cooling charms, leaving the halls to feel quite stuffy and unpleasant.

So distracted was she by her discomfort, that she turned a corner too sharply and immediately slammed into another body. With a surprised 'oomph', Hermione stumbled backwards, managing to remain standing, but her armful of documents fluttered to the ground. Dismayed, she stared down at the scattered mess for a few moments before lifting her eyes to the person before her to spew a rapid apology. The words evaporated in her throat, and her body ran cold. As her knees began to quiver, she immediately dropped to the floor and began to shakily gather her papers.

' _Deep breaths, deep breaths,'_ she told herself, attempting to put into effect the self-calming routine that she had developed just two-and-a-half weeks ago. _'Focus. What ingredients do you need to brew Amortentia? Breathe. Breathe. One Ashwinder egg, seven-"_

"My apologies, Granger," Draco said in a voice that was much deeper and firmer than it had been during their Hogwarts years. "Wasn't watching my step."

He knelt down and began helping her push the documents into neat stacks. Her movements faltered at his proximity, his direct acknowledgement of her. Gray eyes were watching her intently, the way they had been watching her for weeks, curiously awaiting her reaction. She felt unbelievably naked underneath his powerful stare, but something else in those silvery depths mystified her, an emotion she couldn't quite place. She should say something, a thank you maybe, or even attempt to smile politely, but her body seemed unwilling to react. The Slytherin's gaze moved from her face to her trembling hands, and his expression twisted into something resembling disappointment.

He stood abruptly with the folders in hand, and she struggled to her feet after him. His face was hard and cold, and it made her heart beat so hard it nearly hurt.

"You watch your step next time and I'll watch mine," he said sharply, plopping his larger stack onto her smaller one before stiffly continuing on his way, hands buried deep in the pockets of his black pants.

Hermione watched him disappear with a pain thrumming in her chest, wondering why she suddenly felt so ashamed and guilty.

* * *

"What a splendid presentation, Ms. Granger," Marigold Puternick gushed as she exited the meeting room of the Wizengamot, her ample bust struggling to be buttoned back into her robes.

Hermione smiled politely, as she had done for the dozens of others who had congratulated her, her face beginning to ache at the forced movement of her muscles. The pitch for her new proposal, equal representation of all magical blood types within the Wizengamot, had gone over flawlessly, resulting in praise from her boss and the majority of the Wizengamot members. Her heart, however, had belied the passion in her words, too tired and bruised and hurting to swell with the ardor that the younger version of herself would have felt. The artificial face she had to put forward only made her weary.

"Ms. Granger," a voice sneered from behind her. She stopped packing away her things and turned, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise with irritation.

"Lowell," she greeted blandly, her voice seeming too loud in the now empty room. The balding, rotund man before her only sneered more harshly, causing his thin lips to split his aging face into an ugly, twisted expression.

"That was quite a presentation," he continued in that nasally voice that made her want to cringe. "But I was expecting a bit more from a…war heroine such as yourself." His eyes dragged over her with a look of disdain in the inky black depths, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush in anger. "What an unfortunate waste of your time to attempt to fix something that is not broken. Though, as a person from non-magical blood, I wouldn't expect you to understand the complicated workings of the wizarding community."

Hermione fought the urge to scoff at his stupid, derisive expression and gave him a sour smile. "Well I do have to disagree with you, Lowell," she responded calmly, though her face was incredibly stiff with outrage. "I found there to be quite a big problem with the Wizengamot, and I will thoroughly enjoy seeing some of the ignorant bigots lose their seats during the next voting session to more capable and educated half-bloods and even muggleborns."

Lowell spluttered at the word bigot and turned an angry shade of red at the idea of losing his Wizengamot seat. " _You_ are threatening _my_ seat?" he seethed, and Hermione rolled her eyes, turning away from him to gather her bag. His hand shot out and harshly gripped her forearm right on her scar, whipping her back around to face him. Hermione's eyebrows shot up in outraged shock. "Hear me, you little mudblood," he spat, tiny specks of spittle landing across her cheek and causing her to grimace. "The war may be over, but some things will always remain the same. You're filth, dirty, and no amount of laws and reformations will change that. I-"

"Lowell." Draco's voice, steely with fury, split the air suddenly and caused Hermione to snap her head in his direction, surprised. She had forgotten that he'd actually had a meeting just one room over during her presentation. He didn't look at her but kept his hard expression aimed at Lowell as he came to stand beside her. Her heart began its erratic tempo, and her throat clenched slightly for air. "It would be in your best interest to unhand Ms. Granger and be on your way. Now."

Hermione looked up at the blonde's profile in surprise, the harshness in his eyes and his scowling mouth clearly indicating his distaste. Ever since their last encounter, Malfoy had made it a point to ignore her, and, when that was impossible, his demeanor toward her was incredibly frigid. Instead of pleasing her, it only made her feel guilty and sick, and she wondered why her body, mind, and heart couldn't reach a consensus about Draco Malfoy.

Lowell sneered at Draco's words but released Hermione's arm, and she absent mindedly rubbed the aching skin. "Malfoy, you disgrace yourself even further," he commented condescendingly before stalking away from the pair, smoothing down his expensive, yet still hideous, blue robes.

The door slammed shut, and the silence that settled in the room was tense and uncomfortable. Hermione tried to still her slight trembling and push back the wooziness beginning to invade her head with several deep breaths. She was getting better at it, slowly, and her newfound guilt seemed to motivate her.

"Thank you," she said softly, only slightly breathless, and stared into his face apprehensively.

There was no reaction, only an arched eyebrow and cold eyes. "You're welcome," he responded brusquely, already beginning to turn away from her. "Though I can't imagine why I did it, considering the sight of me alone seems to physically disgust you." The biting edge in his tone cut her, and she winced, feeling that ugly ball of guilt sink into her stomach.

As he was walking away, she called out to him, surprised by her own need to explain. "Malfoy!" He turned but his expression didn't change. She was shaking. "It's…it's…" Frustrated tears danced along her lash line, and she took one slow, deep breath. "It's not you. That night…during the war. It's what.."

"What I remind you of," Draco filled in for her simply, and she bit her lip as tears threatened to fall. The unfairness of the situation burned, and she wished she wasn't so fucking damaged.

"I'm sorry," she whispered tearfully, and she didn't even have it in her to be embarrassed by her emotional display. "I'm trying to be better at this."

She thought his face didn't look as hard and cold, but he only lingered for a few moments after her confession before nodding at her and leaving the room.

For several long moments, she remained in the absolute silence, breathing heavily as the tears finally slipped down her cheeks and the pain settled in her chest. She was trying. She was trying so hard every day, and she hoped it was enough.

* * *

Undoing the loose bun at the back of her head, Hermione sighed, running her fingers through the long strands of waves as they fell down her back. On her desk sat a stack of folders belonging to another round of Death Eaters and war criminals to be given the Kiss in a week's time, June 9. It was an easy job, review the files and the paperwork and make sure everything was in order, but she didn't want to see their faces or hear about their crimes. It only made her feel like the war had never really ended.

With a deep sigh and a roll of her shoulders, she began. The first three were men she didn't even recognize, but their crimes were all horrendous. Rape, torture, murder, mass murder, kidnapping. That sick feeling settled in her stomach as she read, the bile resting distastefully at the base of her throat. Tossing the third folder aside, she flipped open the fourth, and the world around her collapsed instantly. Staring up at her, snarling and smiling maliciously in his picture, was Fenrir Greyback. Immediately, she bolted up out of her chair, staring down at the picture in horror. The last face she wanted to see, the last twisted smile she wanted to face. Her legs suddenly folded beneath her, and she tried to grab onto her desk but only swiped her arm across it and knocked the entire stack of folders to the floor. Her chest was collapsing in on itself, the full weight of the war suddenly sitting on top of her, and _god she couldn't breathe_. Faintly, she thought she heard an opening and closing door and some rapid footsteps, but the tunnel vision hit her violently and suddenly so she couldn't be sure it was even real. The numbness hit her legs first and then her arms, and she was so fucking scared, choking on no oxygen and too many memories.

That night replayed in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make it go away. Bellatrix cackling as she tortured her- crucio, crucio, crucio- the pain so profound that she had screamed her throat raw and forgotten in her heart what life had even felt like. The cursed knife _searing_ her skin, branding her forever. The Malfoy family leaving the room, Draco's wide eyes glancing over his shoulder one last time. Greyback's body pressing her into the floor so hard that she felt like her small wrists were breaking under the weight of his large body. His fangs gnashing in front of her face, foul words leaking from his chapped lips as he grinned that feral grin, laughed that evil laugh. Her anguished tears, her horrified screams and wails as he tore her soul to pieces, ripped apart the last bit of life within her with brutish force.

She needed to breathe. The war was over. _That_ was over. _She needed to breathe_.

Her body suddenly felt cooler, and her muscles began to relax of their own accord. It was several long moments before she was even vaguely aware of her surroundings. She was leaning back against the side of her desk, seated limply on the floor, and kneeling in front of her was Malfoy, his face focused and serious. Her breathing very slowly became regulated, and she was suddenly aware of the wetness on her cheeks and the way her hair was slightly matted to the back of her neck.

"Malfoy," she gasped, as tears continue to slowly leak from her eyes. "I'm sorry. You're not supposed to-"

"Granger," he interrupted calmly, "Shut up and don't be embarrassed. Just keep breathing."

Too exhausted to argue, she did as he said. Eyes closed, body relaxed, she took in one deep breath at a time, ignoring the way her chest ached and her body trembled. Once she opened her eyes again, she saw Draco forgo kneeling to sit completely on the floor, and she couldn't help but think that he looked odd sitting on the floor in his expensive black pants and shoes.

"Can I ask what brought this on?"

Hermione wordlessly gestured to the mess on her floor, pointedly looking away from it, and knew that Draco understood exactly what she meant when he inhaled sharply.

"I'll take over these files," he stated and, with a wave of his wand, put the scattered papers back into their folders in a neat stack. The brunette nodded, biting her lip as she tearfully looked away from him. There was a long moment of silence. "Does Potter know about this?"

Hermione looked alarmed and sat up straighter as she pushed her chestnut locks from her face. "No! Please don't tell him."

Draco snorted. "Potter and I are hardly friends, Granger. Though I do wonder why you would want to hide something like this from him."

"Well, I…" Hermione began uncertainly, fidgeting with her hands. "It's not something I want to share with people, Malfoy." Draco nodded and didn't pursue the topic, and she was grateful. "Thank you. For the calming charm. It helped."

He turned his gaze back to hers, and she couldn't help but think that his eyes were beautiful, decorated with wisps of silver and blue and absolutely piercing. "I always seem to find you when you need help, Granger," he said, an unusual edge to his voice.

"Yeah, you do," she said with a half-hearted smile. "Why did you come to my office?"

Draco's face looked amused. "To confront you actually." At Hermione's questioning look, he continued. "I was going to confront you about your…aversion to me and demand that we do something about it."

He stood, dusted the nonexistent dust off his pants, and then offered his hand out to her. She looked at him, his hand, then him again before finally placing her smaller hand into his larger one. It wasn't cold like she assumed it would be. His skin was rather warm, and his grip was strong and sturdy. He hauled her to her feet, and she groaned at the weariness in her limbs.

"I did realize something interesting though," he continued, pushing his hands into his pockets while Hermione looked down at her crumpled white blouse hopelessly.

"And what's that?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable that she felt comfortable speaking with him.

"This is the first time you've been in my presence without looking as if you were ready to faint at the sight of me," he responded with a good natured smirk. "I'd say that's progress."

Hermione paused, realizing he looked much more handsome when his face wasn't twisted into a sneer. "Yes, progress," she agreed with a soft smile, a real smile, and she knew things were changing.

* * *

"You complete fucking ass!"

Hermione paused in shock at the angry screeching coming from within Draco's office. Several other witches and wizards poked their heads out of their offices, intrigued by the commotion. The petite brunette stopped outside the door, unwilling to open it when there was an obviously angry witch inside.

"Now Lorelei-" she could hear Draco begin but the raging woman cut him off.

"Shut the hell up, man whore!" Hermione let her hand fly to her mouth to stifle an amused giggle. "You treat me like I'm just another one of your slags. Do you know who I am!"

There were more inaudible shouts and something that sounded like a yelp from Draco, and then the door was being flung open. A tall, slender woman with fiery red hair and dark, sultry eyes stepped into the hallway, a scowl etched across her face. Though Hermione was still amused by situation, her stomach dropped uncomfortably at the sight of the Witch Weekly model, the effortless beauty she oozed making Hermione even more aware of the pale pallor of her own skin and the subtle bags beneath her eyes.

Lorelei noticed the shorter brunette lingering by the door and trained her heavily made up eyes on her. "Save yourself, Honey," she said angrily. "His dick isn't even worth the trouble."

Hermione blushed and the woman sauntered away. Cautiously, she slipped into Draco's office and shut the door behind her. He glanced up as she entered and returned to cleaning his coffee drenched shirt with a scowl, mumbling to himself about 'crazy fucking women' and 'coffee was fucking hot.'

Amused, Hermione sunk into a plush chair that sat along the wall. It was actually a chair he'd bought specifically for her because she often spent part of her work day doing work from his office. She had blushed when he told her about it, and he had amusedly said it was just a chair. After her episode in June, he made it a point to speak with her at least once a day. At first, she'd been wary and unsure, but didn't object to it because something drew her to him as much as it used to repel her. He was intelligent and opinionated, and he had used that to his advantage to draw her into intellectual debates. Sometimes she felt less like a ghost and more like the old Hermione, and she suspected that that was the reason he liked to rile her up in the first place. Daily debates turned into actual conversations, and, by the time July had come, they had become a strange type of friends. He was still a little standoffish at times, and his tongue would always be sharp and sarcastic, and he would never call her by her first name despite the fact that she no longer called him Malfoy. But he brought her a coffee every morning and didn't let her skip lunch even if she claimed she wasn't hungry, and he even screened her case files when she was away from her office while she pretended not to notice. They were friends, and Hermione was glad.

"Bad break up?" Hermione asked teasingly as Draco finished casting spells on his most likely ruined gray button up.

"We were hardly dating, Granger," he said with a snort, and her heart did an involuntary, happy little skip. He sat back down and looked at her, eyes narrowing as they roamed over her weary stature. "Merlin, you're still so thin."

The comment didn't offend her. "You said that yesterday. Of course, when you have a different model walking out of your office every week, I seemed to pale in comparison." She said it jokingly, but there was a painful discomfort sitting on her chest. The fragility of her wrists, the bones of her spine that were readily visible when she bent over, her washed out, weary appearance all seemed decidedly more prominent, and it hurt to know that she really was only half the person she used to be. She felt like a broken china doll, empty and hollow on the inside with a shattered porcelain exterior.

Draco laughed, a deep, masculine sound that made a shiver run down her spine. It wasn't often that he offered a genuine laugh, but, when he did, it was easy for her to understand why so many women were drawn to him. Of course, his "bad boy" reputation seemed to help.

"Granger, they only look the way they do because of potions, spells, and makeup," he said, leaning back into his seat, relaxed. "It would be an injustice to compare yourself to them because they're not real and you are."

His gaze locked with hers, blooming with an emotion so profound that she was tempted to look away and hide herself from him. More than his intensity scared her, it mystified and thrilled her, seemed to ignite an inspiration within her to open herself to him. It was breathtaking.

And she felt like a piece of her broken heart murmured back to life again.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione called gleefully as she finally spotted her friend sitting serenely in the warm sun outside the café they decided to meet at. It was a private spot in the back deck, beautiful potted plants and bright flowers blocking the other patrons' view of them.

At his name, his head snapped up, and a delighted grin lit up his face. He barely had time to stand from the small wooden table before she was flinging herself into his arms. She hugged him fiercely, his familiar warmth filling her, and he returned the embrace just as enthusiastically, laughing at the odd stares they were attracting. It happened like this every time he came to visit. Even if she was having a particularly hard time that day, seeing Harry always brought out the same reaction from her. They didn't let go immediately, and Hermione rested her head against his strong chest, feeling his heart beat against her ear as his cheek rested on top of her head and hand smoothed down her long hair. The absolute relief at his presence and the long, bleak months without his smile caused a rush of emotion inside her, and Harry hugged her tighter.

"Merlin, Hermione, I've really missed you," Harry said as they released each other and sat down.

"God, I've missed you too, Harry," she replied with a gentle smile. "How's Spain? You're so tan!"

"Brilliant," he beamed, running his hand through his still shaggy black hair. "It's still as stunning as ever. I've also been doing some consulting work with the Spanish Ministry, and it really feels great to get back into things."

Hermione listened whole-heartedly to his excited spiel, her heart bursting for Harry and his well-deserved peace. He chattered on animatedly about the wizards he had been working with, the date he'd gone on last week, Teddy's two month stay with him. He sounded happy, and he looked so healthy, his skin touched with a golden tan, his body lean and strong, and his entire demeanor relaxed. But the more he spoke, the greater the void in her chest felt, and she felt tired again, so tired. Harry had done it. He had really picked up the pieces and put them all back together, and she was so confused. Harry's entire life had been hell and uphill battles, and hers had been perfect up until a certain point. So why couldn't she move on too? Was she really so shattered that she was beyond repair? Was she doing something wrong?

"That's great, Harry," she said, her smile touched with a little sadness as she sipped her tea. "I really can't believe you're back into work already. And actually liking it."

Harry's green eyes squinted with a happy smile. "Yeah it's been even better than I expected. Of course, a part of me is ready to come back home. I miss you and the Weasleys and Teddy. I think the longer I spend away from everyone, the harder it seems to get." He sighed. "But the selfish part of me needs just a little more time."

Hermione smiled supportively. "Harry, I think you've earned it."

The waitress suddenly appeared with their food, and Hermione smiled at the fact that Harry could remember her favorite pasta dish without issue. They ate slowly and chatted amicably, relishing the warmth of the sun and the relaxed atmosphere of the patio deck.

"You really do look better, Hermione," Harry said suddenly, and she looked up to find him staring at her intently, elbows resting on top of the table so he could lean forward a bit. She stopped eating, sensing that the conversation was about to take a more serious turn. "You're getting some of your color back, even put on a bit of weight."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, unsure of what to say, so Harry continued. "Does this have anything to do with your new friendship with Malfoy?"

She was slightly surprised to hear Draco's name pop up so suddenly. "Draco…" she began unsurely. Talking about him made her nervous, and she took a deep breath. "Draco's really helped. He's so different now, and I don't know what it is really, but some things are just easier when he's around." She eyed his unmoved countenance suspiciously. "Why aren't you surprised by any of this?"

Harry shifted and coughed into his fist, his blue t-shirt shifting over her well defined chest. "Well, Malfoy owled me about a month ago and-okay hold on," he said when Hermione's face morphed into a scandalized expression. Her mouth opened and closed rapidly in horror, but words escaped her. "He told me about your initial issues with him, about your panic episodes, about everything." Harry gripped her hands on top of the table, and she had the urge to rip them away from him, but the rational part of her knew that none of this was actually Harry's fault. "Hermione, I wish you would have told me."

His voice was pained, and her chocolate eyes were wide with tears. All of her vulnerabilities were bared for Harry to see, Harry who was happy and strong and _living_ , and she felt weak and humiliated. Hermione Granger wasn't supposed to be this girl. She ducked her head down to hide her face.

"Please don't be embarrassed," Harry pleaded, squeezing her hands. His face wasn't pitying but understanding and open. "After everything you've been through you're allowed to not be perfect. I know you feel trapped. I know it hurts every day. But I need you to talk to me, Hermione. The only reason I didn't come straight back to you after I got the letter was because Malfoy promised me he would be there and threatened me into not making it a sudden intervention."

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with gentle swipes of his thumbs. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered. "I didn't think it was right for me to feel this way when the war's been over for years."

The young wizard's smile at her was sad but affectionate. "There is no deadline for recovery from something like this, Hermione," he said gently, cupping her cheek in his rough hand. "We don't get to forget it, and we don't get to pretend it never happened. We just move on together. All of us."

"Us?" she asked shakily, the tears gradually lessening.

Harry nodded seriously. "I visited Ron earlier today. I threw out every bit of his alcohol and threatened him into coming today. It's time we stopped trying to be too strong and just did this together."

Ron. She was so angry with him for practically making it a point to avoid her, but she missed him so much.

"Have you ever thought of just taking a break, Hermione?" Harry asked gently as she dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "Just getting away from it all for a while?"

"Harry, I can't," she gasped. "I mean my job, all the reformations I've been working on."

Pushing the curtain of her dark waves behind her shoulder with a gentle sweep, Harry smiled at her affectionately. "Hermione, how do you expect to fix the world if you haven't even fixed yourself yet?"

She paused, the question reverberating in her brain. Looking down at her jeans, she frowned. Maybe she had been doing things in the wrong order this entire time. There wasn't much more time to think on the subject because Ron's figure suddenly rounded a large plan. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders slouched slightly with his vibrant auburn bangs falling into his cerulean eyes, and his face seemed to be unsure and questioning. Hermione was torn between wanting to punch him and hug him, but the sad sight of deep purple bags beneath his eyes and the pale pallor of his skin immediately squashed any resentment she felt.

"Harry, 'Mione," Ron greeted gruffly, pulling up a chair beside Hermione and plopping down into it.

She was unsure how to react to Ron and silently eyed him as he sat. The awkwardness between them dissipated when Ron reached out and grasped her hand, sending her a sad smile, and a ball of emotion rose in her throat. Leaning her head against his wide shoulder, she stared at Harry to find his face bright with hope. She couldn't deny that she felt it too, expanding in her chest and tingling in her bones. The three of them would finally face each other and lay all of their cards on the table, no hiding and no pretending.

For the first time in years, Hermione found a quiet sort of strength in her vulnerability.


	2. Chapter 2

The disorderly stacks of papers on Hermione's desk made her anxiety act up a bit. She'd been staring at the mess for nearly half an hour now, unsure of where to even begin. Her brain already felt scattered.

"Go to lunch with me."

She looked up, startled at the sudden intrusion of the voice into her panicked silence. Draco was leaning against her door frame with a relaxed posture, and Hermione's eyes instantly narrowed.

"No," she said with half-hearted anger, picking up a random file and pretending to read it. Another argument against her Wizengamot proposal from Lowell Birch. Oh hell no.

"Why not?" Draco asked simply, unaffected by her rejection, moving forward to pluck the folder from her hands and sneering at it before tossing it aside.

"I'm still angry with you," she said crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back in her chair to glare, trying to appear unhappy with him. Her stomach jumped a little at the strong lines of his handsome face. She'd been angrily avoiding him for a week, but his presence was making her skin tingle and stomach tug.

"No you're not," he responded with a smirk, partially sitting on the edge of her desk. "You've practically been on cloud nine since your little lunch date with Potter and Weasley. In fact, I saw Weasley in here just yesterday." His mouth tightened a bit at this. "I did you a favor, Granger. Don't be ungrateful."

It was true. Since her talk with Ron and Harry, things had been looking up. Harry had only left two days ago, but the time they managed to squeeze in was invaluable. She stepped a little lighter and breathed a little easier, spending more time focusing on herself and her issues instead of trying to bury them. Unfortunately, this caused her to fall behind at work and left assignments piling up. But Draco was right, she couldn't be ungrateful, even if the ass had gone behind her back.

"You still shouldn't have don't that," she argued weakly, already gathering her purse, and he smirked, pleased. "I was a little blindsided."

"It wasn't meant to be an attack, Granger," he responded as they walked side-by-side to the lift. He placed his hand low on her back to help guide her through the foot traffic, and her body felt a slow burn at his touch, even through her blouse. "I was willing to risk your anger at me to get you what you needed, and you needed them. Though I'll never understand how you could possibly need a moron like Weasley." Hermione bit her lip to prevent a smile from spreading at his obvious concern for her.

He took her to an Italian restaurant in muggle London, some place quiet and serene without the always curious eyes of other witches and wizards. They chatted quietly until the waitress took their order with a smile, Draco making sure to throw in some gently prodding remarks to see Hermione flush pink with agitation and laugh at her reaction.

Though they were inside, the warmth of the August heat occasionally pushed inside, and Hermione brushed her hair back away from her neck as Malfoy rolled up his white sleeves. As he pushed the fabric up near his elbows, the cursed ink of his Dark Mark suddenly appeared. Hermione stared at it absently, forgetting that his forearm was stained with the ominous mark. A small flutter of panic flickered in her chest, but, like a candle, she blew it out. It was just a mark, harmless ink on skin. With a slow, deep breath, she stilled the trembling in her hands. Draco must have noticed her reaction because he immediately began rolling his sleeve back down.

"No," she said, stilling his movement by placing her hand on his arm directly over the mark. "I don't care about that." She smiled gently at his skeptical expression. "Really, it's okay."

He made no other movements to cover it, but he moved his arm under the table, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Hermione felt a pang of pity strike her. It wasn't unknown to her that Draco had some very serious regrets about his affiliation with Voldemort. He would often rant to her in frustrated exasperation about the menial assignments and lack of cooperation he often received at work, stating that, despite the fact that he had defected from the Death Eaters before the war had even ended, people would forever judge him by the mistake he made when he was only a child. There was always a deep self-hatred in his eyes when he spoke of this, and Hermione knew that he was even less forgiving toward himself than other people were.

"Have you ever thought of concealing it the muggle way?" she asked cautiously, unsure of how approachable this topic was, sipping slowly on her water.

"The muggle way?" His question was said tensely, but he made no move to shut down the discussion.

"Yes," she continued. "A muggle tattoo. Magic may be unable to remove it or conceal it, but muggle tattoos are just ink on skin. And it's faded quite a bit that it seems even more possible to be covered. I'm sure Voldemort was too pretentious even back then to think of that."

Draco considered her quietly for a second. "That's actually quite brilliant, Granger," he finally smirked in a way that made her stomach flip. "And incredibly ironic. I'm sure Voldemort's rolling over in his grave at the suggestion."

Their food came, and Hermione was absorbed by the delicious aromas. She ate happily and tried to ignore the way the waitress gave Draco several overly bright smiles. He paid her no heed, however, quite interested in hearing what she did in the week she spent ignoring him. He rolled his eyes when she told him she and Harry spent most of their time together when she wasn't working, looked too intrigued by the fact that Ginny had come to visit for a day and they'd had a girls' spay day together, and laughed uproariously when she'd recounted the tale of Ron falling into a rose bush when he'd learned that she and Draco were actually good friends. His laugh put a galaxy of stars in her stomach.

"I'm so full," she groaned, sluggishly letting her head lull back. "How am I supposed to go back to all those ridiculous files now?"

Draco's eyes lingered on her exposed neck for a moment, eyes a shade darker than usual. "Just don't go," he drawled lazily, and she snorted.

"Yes, that would be so professional of me." He was giving her one of his rebellious half smile, half smirks. "You're serious?"

"How often do I joke with you, Granger," he deadpanned, snatching the bill and handing the waitress the appropriate amount of pounds before Hermione could even protest. "All of your work will still be there tomorrow, and I doubt anyone will even notice we're gone. Figgins is out all day for a conference."

Hermione's heart thumped rapidly as they moved back out into the bustling street, the simple idea of breaking the rules making her nervous. She couldn't just disregard work like that. She was Hermione Granger, the perfect employee. But she couldn't deny that it thrilled her as well.

' _You're allowed to not be perfect.'_ She remembered Harry's words of advice from just a couple days ago to just do things that would make her happy, no matter how small or big they may be.

"Okay."

"What? Really?" Draco asked, his eyes wide with surprise. She nodded, and he grinned. "Well, that was easier than I thought. Okay then, how about this tattoo thing."

Hermione blinked. "Right now? I only just mentioned it," she said, aghast that he would so suddenly be making this decision. "They're permanent, you know. And they're-"

They were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and people were giving them annoyed looks as they moved around the pair. Draco pulled her closer with a firm tug on her arm. They were practically chest to chest, and she had to incline her head to peer into his eyes, awed by the way the sun seemed to illuminate his hair so that it appeared shimmery and golden. Like a god, he was.

"I have heard things about tattoos, Granger," he said, that enticing grin still caught on his face. The wind pushed a strand of hair across her face, and he smoothly tucked it behind her ear, letting his hand oh so lightly brush across her cheek when he brought it back to his side. "Right now is always the best time to do something new. Maybe I can even convince you to get one when we get there."

She laughed lightly. "I'd love to see you try, Malfoy," she said, loving the way his eyes seemed to spark at the challenge. "I'm afraid I'm completely immune to your charm, and, therefore, unaffected by your wily ways." Well, that wasn't a blatant lie, but it was fun to tease him.

"Oh, Granger, my wiliness is specifically reserved for you."

* * *

The Tipsy Dragon was alive with merry laughter and the pleasant hum of happy chatter. Hermione waited at the bar for the drinks she ordered for herself and Draco with a content hum in her bones. The bartender plopped down the butterbeer and firewhiskey with a friendly smile, and the petite brunette hurried back over to the table where Blaise and Draco were sitting. The pair was laughing uproariously, and Hermione bit her lip to hide the grin threatening to escape. It was wonderful to see Draco so unhinged and open. Whether it was the alcohol, the atmosphere, or Blaise's ability to entertain, Hermione was unsure, but it was very contagious.

"So, Granger," Blaise began when Hermione slipped into her seat beside Draco. "When will your friend, the Weasley girl, be returning from the States?" He leaned forward, elbows resting on the wooden table, dark eyes intrigued.

"I had no idea you were interested, Blaise," she said with a teasing smile, taking a small sip of her butterbeer. "Ginny will be here in two weeks, but I don't know Blaise. Gin has always been a stubborn one. She may not give into your charm as easily as you'd like."

Blaise chuckled. "Granger, if you weren't so far out of my league, this would be a different discussion." Hermione blushed, and Draco glared. "But, alas, you are. Fortunately for me, you have lovely friends, Weasley in particular. Also lucky for me, I do love a challenge, and I would love for her to be that challenge."

Hermione laughed at Blaise's confidence while Draco rolled his eyes, taking a deep swig of his drink. Blaise was certainly charming with his engaging personality and seductively alluring smile. Ginny was certainly in for an interesting ride if he did intend to pursue her.

The door to the pub opened as someone stepped in, and the frigid December air tumbled in, settling over Hermione's shoulders like a whisper. She shivered in her red sweater, and Draco's arm instinctually settled over her shoulders, bringing her closer into his warmth. She bit her lip. It had become quite normal for them to be touching constantly- arms pressed together as they walked about the Ministry, knees grazing as they sat in the office, her hand tucked into his elbow when they strolled somewhere for lunch-and it was almost a natural progression for them. The fire that ignited at his touch left Hermione breathless, a heated yearning clenching in her stomach and sparking between her legs. Though she had been quite aware of her feelings for Draco for months now, the brunette was unsure whether to act on them, not wanting to ruin the friendship that she now cherished.

"I ran into Weasley in Diagon Alley today," Blaise continued, sighing contently when he took a rather large gulp of his drink. "He was purple, not sure why. Probably something from that fucking joke shop. But I told him to come join us if he could get his shit together."

Hermione made a strangled noise, and Draco sneered. "He's a recovering alcoholic, idiot."

"Ah and what better way to test his commitment to the cause," Blaise joked, and Hermione kicked his shin from underneath the table, laughing at the way he jumped at the contact and proceeded in banging his knee on the underside of the table. "I was joking," he continued, rubbing his knee gingerly. "And he didn't seem too keen on coming anyway, knowing Drake was going to be here."

Hermione glanced at Draco to see him smirking, no doubt pleased that he had managed to irritate Ron without raising a finger. Shaking her head, she smiled and let the butterbeer warm her. Boys. Though Draco accepted that Ron was necessary to her recovery and Ron seemed to understand the same for Draco, they still had a childish dislike for each other, and it was quite amusing to watch them interact.

Draco and Blaise teetered off into conversation about Quidditch, and Hermione zoned out momentarily. Merlin, she felt good, not just from the buzz brought on by the butterbeer, but the kind of good she had been searching for years to find. Her bones no longer felt weak and brittle, and her heart felt nearly free of the disease called war. She could sleep without nightmares, smile without a façade, and breathe without the weight of ghosts on her chest. Though her bad days were still plenty and there was always the potential for her to degenerate into another episode, for the first time in over four years, she lived without fear of pain.

Draco nudged her when Blaise sauntered over to the bar for yet another refill. "You okay, Granger?" he asked, eyeing her closely, the gray of his eyes appearing even more silver than usual.

She smiled, feeling the blush being drawn out onto her cheeks by the butterbeer. "I'm wonderful."

Draco chuckled at her cheery response, reaching up to her face with his left hand to thumb her cheek, as if trying to smear the pink of her blush. The tattoo on his forearm caught her eye, an intricate dragon with fierce eyes and a powerful presence. It was incredibly stunning, and the Dark Mark that lay hidden beneath it wasn't even remotely visible. She thought of her own tattoo, a single bird in flight nestled on the inside of her wrist, dark and small but beautiful. After several goading and challenging remarks from Draco, she had eventually succumbed to the artist's needle with a scowl. Draco had only raised an eyebrow at her choice of tattoo but seemed to like it nonetheless.

"I think you're enjoying yourself a little too much, Granger," he said with a sultry smile. He was so close to her, close enough that his breath danced across her cheek, and her body leaned in unconsciously.

"Isn't that always the case when you're involved, Draco," she teased and didn't miss the way his eyes darkened. She suddenly became acutely aware of his arm resting on the back of her chair, his other hand slowly stroking her knee through her jeans, the way her back arched to push her closer to him. The heat was unbearable.

The tension was interrupted, but not broken, when Blaise returned to the table. They eased back into conversation with him though their eyes kept stealing glances at one another. For another hour, the trio laughed and chatted with casual merriment, and Hermione's mouth began to ache from all the giggling Blaise managed to provoke.

Buzzed and content, Draco and Hermione parted ways with Blaise at the apparition point, Draco insisting on escorting Hermione home through side-along apparition. With a pop, they appeared in a dark alley just a block from Hermione's flat. Because she lived in a muggle complex, apparating to her door was out of the question.

"Ugh," Hermione gurgled out when their feet landed in a murky puddle of melted snow.

Draco eyed the alley with distaste, noting that it was obscured completely in darkness. "Granger, you seriously need to reconsider this as your apparition point," he said, ushering her into the light of the sidewalk with a hand on her back. "It's far too dangerous."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Draco, you worry too much. Besides, I've charmed my wand to emit a warning if there is anyone here before I even apparate." Her breath came out in visible puffs, and they walked quickly, desperate to be away from the frigid cold enveloping them.

Silently, they climbed the steps to her apartment, Draco catching Hermione's elbow as she slipped on the iciness of the steps, and the entire way up she couldn't stop thinking about how firmly his hand grasped her arm and how firmly they could grasp her hips if she were laying beneath him. When they reached her door, she turned to face him with a smile though her fingers were itching to touch him and her own thoughts had left her aching for him for more than she ever had before.

He was closer than she thought but she didn't step back, simply tilted her head up to meet his suddenly penetrating gaze.

"Draco-"

His mouth descended on hers swiftly, like a predator diving in for his prey, and she responded instantly. The kiss was forceful, full of pent up attraction and emotions, and that slow burn she always felt at his touch morphed into a blazing inferno. Teeth, tongue, and lips clashed, pulled, and pushed as her back met the wall, his hips pressing sharply into hers. His hands were fisted in her hair, tilting her head back so that he could kiss her more deeply, and her hands pulled the front of his jacket so he was as close as physically possible. It had been so long since she let someone touch her this way and even longer since it had ignited such a searing lust from within her. He rolled his hips just right, and she gasped into his mouth, a poignant ache developing low in her abdomen. The way he kissed her was almost feral with passion, and she fucking loved it. The world, the cold, and the undoubtedly nosy neighbors were invisible to her.

"Draco," she whimpered when his mouth moved to her pulse point, fingers bitingly gripping his biceps.

He stilled so suddenly it had her head spinning. Stiffly, he removed his hands and took a step back, gazing at her with an expression she'd never seen before, an odd combination of disbelief, confusion, and…fear. Silently, they stared at one another, and Hermione felt a quiet apprehension fill her. She didn't move for fear that he would dart away like a skittish deer, and her heart beat a violent rhythm. The wind rustled his blonde locks, brushed coolly across her slightly stinging lips, and his face fell back into stoicism.

She opened her mouth to speak, but, before a word could escape, he disapparated with a resounding pop, leaving her alone with the frosty breeze and a heart full of turmoil.

* * *

"Merlin, I've missed this so fucking much," Ginny groaned, sinking deeper into Hermione's couch with her mug of hot tea raised to her nose.

Hermione smiled at Ginny's obvious pleasure and raised her own mug to her lips, letting the near scalding liquid trickle delightfully down her throat. The two girls were settled lethargically into Hermione's sofa, facing each other with each of their backs leaning against an armrest and a large Gryffindor colored blanket shared between them. Ginny had returned from the States last night and immediately ordered a girl's night, and Hermione more than happily obliged. So, dressed in pajamas and fuzzy socks, they gathered all their favorite foods and prepared for a night in.

"So," Ginny began, pushing her luxurious curtain of dark, auburn hair over her shoulder. "I've been thinking…and I'm fairly certain I'm ready to come back home now, permanently."

The pretty girl smiled brightly, and Hermione practically squealed in delight. "Oh, Ginny, thank Merlin!" she said, laughing happily. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. Harry and Ron have been great, really great, but it's just not the same as having a girl friend around."

Ginny was beaming, and Hermione could see clearly on her face the excitement the younger girl was trying to contain.

"New York has been amazing," Ginny said, placing her mug on the coffee table in favor of Crookshanks climbing into her lap. "But I miss everyone, and I miss being around familiar places. I mean, I wasn't even supposed to stay this long in the first place!"

"When will the move begin?" Hermione asked, beginning to twist her hair into a long braid.

"Sometime next week." Crookshanks swatted at Ginny when her fingers stopped running through his fur. "I want to say my goodbyes first."

The fire cackled pleasantly, the cold of the night completely unfelt by the two friends, basking the flat in a delightful warmth and gentle glow.

"What are you going to do about Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously. "He'll be moving back soon as well."

Ginny didn't look taken aback or offended about the question. "I love Harry," Ginny said with a soft smile, sadly. Hermione smiled too. "And I always will. But I'm glad he broke my heart because it helped me grow more in these two years than I have in my entire life. It doesn't even hurt anymore, so I know that I don't need him to exist in my life romantically for me to be happy. Actually, I'm not even sure that the possibility of a relationship even exists for us anymore because we are two completely different people now. It may be a little awkward at first, but we're both adults now and we'll handle it. We always do."

Hermione smiled at her maturity and leaned forward to grasp her hand. Harry had told her something similar recently, so she knew everything would work out well between them.

"Can I ask what happened with Malfoy?" Ginny said suddenly, and Hermione's smile faltered.

"How do you know something happened?"

Ginny smirked. "Ron told me. Said he hadn't seen you two even look at each other in the past two weeks. He also mentioned that Blaise told him Malfoy was unusually frustrated and moody lately."

Hermione sighed, feeling that pang of hurt rising into her throat again. It was true; they hadn't spoken in two weeks, mostly because Draco had immediately taken to ignoring her after the kiss. She'd been completely destroyed after he left her there, staring at her abused lips and mussed hair for nearly half an hour in the mirror with a mystified hurt. The sting of rejection was absolutely biting and hurt like a bitch.

"He kissed me two weeks ago and then left without saying a word," she finally mumbled, pushing down the ball in her throat. Ginny's eyebrows shot up in shock and outrage. "Yeah and then he proceeded to ignore me at work the following Monday. We haven't spoken since."

"What an ass!" Ginny cried angrily, and Crookshanks leaped from her lap with a look of agitation. The sassy redhead sat up on her knees. "What kind of man just leaves a girl hanging like that? I thought Malfoy was a better man than that now."

"You know," Hermione began, licking her lips and setting her mug aside. "I was completely crushed at first. And then raging pissed. But I get why he did it now." Ginny blinked, confused. "I know Draco better than almost everyone, and I know he's just scared. He's complicated, and sometimes he's afraid of his own feelings. He lost everyone except Narcissa during the war, and he was forced to watch innocent people being tortured and killed every day without showing a single emotion or Voldemort would lash out." Bile rose in her throat when she remembered she was one of those people. "He's damaged and afraid, and I can understand that. But I know Draco, and he'll come around eventually. As much as he's afraid, he won't be able to leave it like this."

"And if he doesn't come around?" Ginny asked skeptically but gently, understanding how much this man meant to her friend.

Hermione swallowed painfully, the idea of never having Draco stand by her side again, even if it was just as a friend, making her cinnamon eyes burn. "If he doesn't then I'm wrong and I move on."

Ginny leaned forward, her brown eyes warm and concerned. "Are you okay, Hermione? With everything you've been going through lately, are you handling this okay?"

The older brunette couldn't help but smile slightly. "You know, Gin, I'm actually doing really well," she said softly. "I miss him obviously, a lot." She laughed tearfully, and Ginny felt her own eyes burn with sympathy. "And I won't lie, it hurts like hell. But I really feel like my feet are on the ground right now and my head's in the right place. I feel…good."

"That's great, Hermione." Ginny grasped both of Hermione's hands in hers, immensely proud of the demons the older girl had conquered. But then she paused pensively, watching Hermione continue to struggle with keeping her tears at bay. "You're in love with him."

Tears finally dripped down Hermione's pretty face, and her lips trembled violently. Inhaling deeply, she nodded. "I'm totally in love with him," she agreed miserably, and Ginny moved so that they were side-by-side, her arm wrapped her trembling friend. Suddenly, Hermione laughed, albeit tearfully. "Being in love is hard."

If Ginny hadn't been through this before, she'd think Hermione had completely lost it, but she understood too well the confusing mix of emotions heartbreak could bring.

"You know what you need," she said, pushing chocolate strands away from Hermione's face. "A haircut."

Now, Hermione laughed genuinely, and the tears came to a slow halt though the hurt in her chest still throbbed. "What?" she asked incredulously as Ginny scrambled from the couch in excitement.

"A haircut!" she repeated, smiling enthusiastically and bouncing on her feet a little, causing her tiny shorts to flounce around her slim thighs. "Nothing helps ease heartache like a good haircut. Trust me. Remember how I cut mine off like a month after I left? Yeah, extremely therapeutic."

Hermione fingered the tip of her braid, looking at it pensively. Her hair had always been long, and for the longest time after the war, it had really been the only part of her she could even recognize when she looked in the mirror. She remembered the days when she would stumble out of the shower and be taken aback by the phantom that returned her lifeless gaze, the curled mass tumbling over her naked shoulders the only thing that could convince her the reflection was actually hers. Maybe that was reason enough to cut her hair. After all, the girl in the mirror was a new person, maybe even a better person, and there was no reason to remind her of old ghosts.

"Hmm, maybe that's not such a bad idea," Hermione finally said with a smile, and Ginny grinned.

"Look at you. You get tattoos, you're in love with your childhood bully, and you're finally willing to do something about that hair. You're a new person," Ginny said as she walked into the kitchen. Hermione felt pride swell inside here. She really was. The sound of clinking glasses followed a cupboard closing, and the former Quidditch player returned with a bottle of wine and glasses in hand. "Okay, now it's time to hit the good stuff and talk about ways to maim Malfoy if he doesn't pull his head out of his ass."

Hermione laughed, gladly accepting a glass when she was handed one, silently praying that her faith in Draco was justified.

* * *

Enchanted baubles of light floated around the wonderfully decorated room with beautiful splendor, and the enchanted ceiling was raining with multicolored glitter. The guests were in high spirits, laughing brightly as trays of alcohol magically floated amongst them, offering an endless supply of refills. Hermione couldn't stop the joyful grin from spreading across her face as she mingled with the vibrantly dressed guests. Most Ministry functions were less than stellar, but this year's New Year's Eve party was shaping up to be quite magnificent. The mood was light and happy, the decorations were sparkling and brilliant, and the alcohol and food were quite delicious.

"Hermione!" she heard her name called faintly and glanced up from the table of desserts to see Ron and Harry making their way across the massive room and through the crowds.

Smiling, she hurried to them, her black pumps clicking on the beautifully polished floors. "Merlin, Hermione, you look fantastic!" Harry praised after he released her from an affectionate hug, holding her at arm's length to admire her.

She blushed, unused to being looked at with such openly, approving eyes. Ginny had forced her into a golden, skin tight, long sleeved dress that ended slightly above mid-thigh. The dress was glittery and the light seemed to hit it perfectly every time she moved. Harry grinned when his hands touched the short ends of her hair, which now sat in gentle waves right on top of her shoulders. When she'd gone to get it cut, she'd been excited for the change, but the moment long chunks of hair began to hit the floor, the panic and uncertainty hit her full force and almost made her bolt from the stylist's chair. But the end result was well worth it, and her head felt light and free without the extra weight.

"Told you she did, mate," Ron said with a cheeky grin, squeezing Hermione in a hug so tight she squeaked a bit.

"You pair look quite dashing as well," Hermione said, eyeing them with a teasing grin, their sleek, dark Muggle suits making them look sophisticated and mature. "I feel quite lucky." She glanced about her and noticed the jealous, scowling faces women were directing her way. "Or in potential danger."

Ron tossed an arm around her shoulders and plucked a glass of pumpkin juice from one of the trays passing by. "Ignore them, 'Mione," he said. "They're only jealous that your legs look fucking gorgeous in that dress." Harry nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

They were interrupted when Ginny suddenly appeared in a slinky black number that was quite similar in style to Hermione's. The redhead greeted her brother with a gentle punch in the chest before throwing herself into Harry's arms and hugging him warmly. He looked surprised but then returned it with equal vigor, his eyes closed and the smile on his face looking relieved and content. Ron and Hermione exchanged an amused glance and slipped away, giving the ex-couple a moment to catch up.

"So," Hermione began, taking a slow sip of her champagne as they moved to a lavishly decorated table off to the side. "I should warn you that Blaise has expressed interest in Ginny and will most definitely be making a move on her tonight."

Ron groaned. "Not Zabini. He's such a womanizer. He'll just want to sleep with her and run." He chugged the rest of his drink. "And he still owes me fifty galleons from our poker game last week." Hermione laughed, the unexpected friendship between Ron and Blaise was always brought about interesting stories. Ron hesitated before he spoke again, and Hermione eyed his suspiciously. "Well then, it's probably fair that I warn you Malfoy will be here tonight."

The brunette's heart stuttered and dropped into her stomach, a mix of excitement and anxiety churning in her chest. Ron watched her carefully. "Oh," she began shakily, "well, that's…that's good."

"I can still hex him for you, 'Mione," Ron said with a hard face. "You see, Ginny and I came up with this plan in case he doesn't-"

Hermione waved her hand, stopping him. "Ron, it's okay, really," she said with an appreciative smile. "I'll be fine, whether he apologizes or not. I'm just here to have a good time and celebrate a new beginning for all of us."

Ron didn't look appeased. "Still though, just give the word and we'll take care of it. Maybe I can get Zabini too while I'm at it."

The next couple hours passed in a cheerful blur as Hermione met up with old and new friends. As she predicted, Blaise was in hot pursuit of Ginny for nearly the entire night. He had greeted Hermione with an appreciative smirk and quirked eyebrow and spent several long moments bantering playfully with her before Ginny caught his eye. The redhead was currently looking rather unimpressed at Blaise's charm, but Hermione noticed her attempts to withhold a smile several times during their conversation. Oh yes, she was in trouble. Harry was caught in deep conversation with Kingsley and Arthur, looking completely at ease. George had arrived only an hour ago and he and Ron were caught in loud, joking conversation with Dean and Seamus. Hermione sighed, content.

"Granger." The deep rumbling of the voice she'd painfully been waiting for washed over her like a tidal wave. Slowly, she turned to face him, trying to swallow her nerves and sudden rush of fear. He looked entirely too handsome in his silver and black suit, so much so that it was nearly devastating for her heart to witness. His face was as stoic as ever, posture relaxed as he kept his hands buried in his pockets, and Hermione felt more intimidated than she imagined she would, but she forced it away.

"Draco," she greeted softly, her hopeful cinnamon eyes connecting with his unwaveringly.

His eyes softened a fraction, and he swallowed visibly. If Hermione hadn't known him so well, she'd never be able to tell he was nervous.

"You look incredible," he finally said, fingers grazing her cheek before fingering a strand of her hair. She smiled but didn't say anything. When he paused to stare at her, she knew the apology she'd been waiting for was coming. It took him several moments, but she was patient. "Hermione…I fucked up." His face finally shifted into an expression of pain. "I'm sorry. It was stupid to leave you, and I regretted it the moment I realized what I'd done. You're not the type of girl I'm used to. You're real and honest and intelligent, and you intimidate the hell out of me sometimes. I was…"

He trailed off and Hermione spoke for him. "Afraid, I know." Shame painted his face, and Hermione stepped closer, cupping his cheek in her hand. "You don't get to hide from me, Draco," she said, the exact same words he had once spoken to her when trying to coax her out of her shell. "And you don't get to run away either. Isn't that what you made me promise once? I expect the same from you."

He smirked gently. "You don't forget anything do you, Granger?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't regret it, kissing you. It was probably the best fucking decision I've made in a while." He smiled to himself. "And I know this apology is shit, but I don't know how else to say it. I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I took too long, and I'm sorry. But that was the best damn kiss of my entire life, and I won't apologize for doing it." Hermione felt her entire body tingle at his passionate honesty.

"It's been three weeks, Draco," Hermione said seriously. "I should let Ron and Ginny hex you from here to Hogwarts." She drew in a shaky breath at the way his eyes took on an insecure edge, fearful that her next words would be a rejection. "But that's not what I want."

"10…9…8…7…" The drunken, excited chant filled the air.

When she smiled at him, he released a relieved breath, letting his hand grasp her hip lightly to pull her in further. "What is it you want then?" His face was open and earnest, but his eyes were cautious.

"3…2...1…Happy New Year!"

The room was bursting with cheers and calls of happiness, the enchanted ceiling morphing from glitter to a grand display of exploding fireworks. Hermione glanced around momentarily to find couples kissing, friends hugging, and the occasional tear being shed. Ron and Harry were clapping each other on the back, wide grins on their face, and Blaise puckered his lips in front of Ginny's face, only to have a desert cake shoved into his mouth, though he didn't look too put out by the rejection. The sight of jubilant celebration was beautiful.

"What do you want, Hermione?" Draco repeated, gripping her chin to guide her eyes to him again. A single tear danced down her cheek as the stormy gray of his eyes brought out a burst of emotions. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

"I want to be with you," she responded softly, and her heart swelled at the absolute honesty in her words.

"Okay," he said simply, and the smile he sent her was by far the most beautiful she had ever seen, filled with a hope and a promise that ignited a fire in her soul.

Then, he dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, and she thought she could faintly hear Ginny cheering in the background. She pressed herself close to him, chest to chest, and allowed his tongue to coax a sigh from deep within her. His hands wandered down the open back of her dress, teasingly dancing along her spine and leaving behind a string of burning embers.

"Oi, mate," Blaise suddenly interrupted, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Save the show for the bedroom…and I will happily join you if you want spectators."

The pair quickly untangled, Draco's arm still slung around Hermione's small waist as he used the other arm to shove his dark haired friend. "Fuck off, Blaise."

Blaise snickered and slipped away, winking at Hermione as he went. Immediately after he disappeared, Ron and Harry approached, wishing Hermione a Happy New Year and Draco bodily harm if he fucked up again. Draco appeared unfazed and even proceeded to mock Ron until his face was burning as brightly as his hair. Harry only smiled supportively, squeezing Hermione's hand as the two degenerated into argument. The night continued on with light merriment, and the awkwardness that Hermione thought she would feel after her and Draco's reconciliation was completely absent. Though Ron still seemed a bit skeptical, Ginny conversed with Draco as if they were old friends, and he even laughed when she threatened to hex his balls off if he was ever that stupid again. Harry even spoke with him a few times, and Hermione detected a special kind of respect between them that seemed far too personal to ask about.

She and Draco were together now, really together. The revelation was confusing, thrilling, and made her want to scream like one of those love obsessed school girls. It was almost surreal. After secretly pining after him for months, he wanted her back. The thought alone stole her breath and put her on cloud nine for the rest of the evening.

They finally departed the party near two in the morning, and Hermione wasn't sure if she was drunk off him or the champagne when he pressed her against her bedroom wall, nipping at her neck as he brought her leg up to wrap around his waist. He dragged his hand along her thigh, pushing the dress up as he went, and Hermione could feel his length hardening against her aching core. She bucked unconsciously, and he groaned. It had been so long since she'd been with a man. The last time had been with Ron about eight months after the war ended. Caught up in their grief, they'd fucked hard and quick against the library floor in Grimmauld Place, he wanting to forget the look of death in Fred's eyes and she wanting to erase Greyback's touch from her skin. It had lacked passion and romance, and Hermione had forgotten what those things had even felt like until Draco came along.

They kissed deeply and without hurry, almost in daze. When she slipped out of her dress and the cool air kissed her skin, her heart began to beat a severe rhythm, but she wasn't nervous, only excited and ready. He wasted no time in reattaching his mouth to her skin, lips ghosting over her neck and shoulders, mouth circling over her nipples in a way that made her keen and moan. Skin against skin, they tangled desperately with each other, and the strong, hard planes of his body pressed against her softer curves drove her into a frenzy, leaving her breathless and positively aching for him. She raked her nails along his back, and the groan she was rewarded with was orgasmic.

Draco slowly pulled her underwear down her thighs, and she hated the way his calloused fingers grazed her inner thighs because it made her entire body throb and burn. But then he had those devilish fingers working inside her, plunging and curling while he held her body against the wall with his own, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear as she mewled helplessly. When they finally fell into the bed and his boxers had gone, she took a quick moment to admire the way her hips welcomed him perfectly and the way the coarse hairs above his impressive length scraped wonderfully against her bare skin.

She was wet and wanton for him, practically begging before he finally plunged inside her. It hurt for a minute, but he moved slowly and gave her time to adjust until she was crying his name to the heavens. The pleasure was overpowering and deliriously consuming, and she could only wrap her legs around his waist as he surged forward with abandon, his hands holding her hips in a bruising grip, and she couldn't help but think that these would be the kind of bruises she would wear with pride. The tension coiling inside her finally burst after what felt like hours when he pressed his thumb to her clit, and she came with a strangled cry, he following only moments later with a few more shattering thrusts and her name groaned into her neck. It was absolutely spectacular.

He let his weight collapse on her, and they fell asleep with his heart beating against her chest.

* * *

Being with Draco was easy, one of the most natural things Hermione had ever experienced, and she did it without even realizing she was putting in effort, almost like breathing. Aside from the physical aspect, Hermione couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed in their relationship. They still argued over pointless topics, spent hours in each other's offices, and took longer than normal lunch breaks to try new muggle restaurants. He still made it a point to provoke her anger, and she still listened with an open ear when he dissolved into an angry spiel. But there was something else lingering between them now, a sort of electric gravity that seemed to keep them in perfect sync, a mutual connection that seemed to transcend traditional romance. It was just…more.

Hermione smiled into a spoonful of the wonderful stew Molly had prepared, watching Draco as he conversed intently with Charlie Weasley in the loudness and disarray of the Burrow's dining room. Two and a half months after they had begun dating, the blonde finally acquiesced to her pleas to attend a Weasley family dinner. He'd huffed and puffed quite childishly as they prepared to floo over to the Burrow, but his reluctance and uneasiness began to ebb when Molly greeted him with a warm hug and Arthur a smile and a handshake. Though he wouldn't say it aloud, Hermione knew that a part of Draco's reluctance was due to his uncertainty of the Weasleys' reaction to him and their ability to forgive his past. The brunette was suddenly even more grateful for Molly and Arthur's compassionate nature.

"So, Gin," she began, slyly eyeing the gorgeous redhead sitting across from her. "A little birdy told me that someone was finally convinced to go on a date with Blaise Zabini."

Ginny scowled, and Ron rolled his eyes, gracelessly shoveling more food into his mouth. "Birdy isn't very good at keeping secrets now is he," she growled, angrily spearing a carrot, though a very faint blush was dusting her cheeks. "It was the only way to get him off my back. You know he's practically been stalking me since the party."

Hermione laughed. To her and Draco's great surprise, Blaise hadn't seemed to lose interest in Ginny since the party. Instead, her dismissal of him seemed to fuel him further, and he had no shame in showing up whenever he knew she would be around. Ginny tried desperately to resist his charm, but everyone knew she enjoyed his company.

"He said he couldn't help himself," Draco added suddenly when Fleur and Bill's daughter threw herself into Charlie's lap with a pretty smile, effectively interrupting their conversation. "Said he was completely captivated by you."

Ron pretended to gag on his food, and George snickered, though Angelina seemed to be moved. When Ginny's faced morphed into an expression of mystified wonder and a romanced smile, Hermione and Draco exchanged an amused glance. The three youngest siblings degenerated into banter when George attempted to tease his sister and she fought back by bringing up the less than stellar girls Ron had once attempted to woo.

"Draco, dear," Mrs. Weasley spoke up from Draco's right, and both he and Hermione turned to face her. Her nearly orange hair was frizzed and wild today, no doubt due to the absolute chaos that her children and grandchild always seemed to produce. "How would your mother feel about joining us for dinner next week? It must be quite lonely cooped up in that manor all day, and I do love a good chat with another woman closer to my age."

Draco cleared his throat, attempting to rid himself of a cold rush of emotion. "I think…I think she would love that, Mrs. Weasley," he finally said, and Hermione squeezed his knee supportively.

It wasn't often that she saw Draco caught up in emotion, but he loved his mother very much and knew the idea of her finally being invited out of the manor by someone who would treat her fairly was very moving to him.

"Oh, wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley said with a wide smile. "I do love my children but even an older woman needs her girl talk." She whispered the last part, and Hermione laughed while Draco smiled. It was apparent to the brunette that her boyfriend would grow to be quite fond of Molly.

After the entire family was stuffed to the point of fatigue, they retired to the backyard where Ron and George had invited friends over for a makeshift game of Quidditch. Ginny, naturally, had refused to remain on the sidelines and brought out her old broom with a wistful look on her face. As Hermione and Draco settled under a tree, she couldn't help but think how much Harry would love this and was glad he was moving back home in a month. Victoire frolicked among the gnomes at the far end of the garden, and so charming was her toothy four year old grin that the ill-mannered, wrinkly creatures became reluctant to bite her and simply let her chase them.

Hermione contently pressed her back against the rough bark, leaning heavily into Draco's side as she watched the slow setting sun burn orange, red, and pink on the horizon. The air was chilly, and she made sure to grab a large quilt to wrap around herself. Draco had simply used a heating charm on himself, but Hermione preferred the crispness of cold air and a heavy blanket on her shoulders to the stale, semi-humid bubble created by the charm. She watched in amusement at the messy Quidditch game and Arthur's failing attempts to referee the boisterous teams. The ethereal Fleur was making a crown of flowers in her daughter's pale hair as Molly fussed over Charlie's most recent dragon burns and Bill watched in amusement. Discreetly, Hermione eyed Draco. His face was incredibly relaxed, all of the hard lines smoothed out so that his strikingly handsome face seemed more boyish and youthful. He was at ease, unburdened and open, but his eyes were far away.

She bit her lip, tucking a wandering strand of hair behind her hair, and wondered if, despite the relaxed happiness within, he felt the same sort of simmering restlessness in his heart as she did in hers.

"Why did you help me?"

He blinked and turned his head toward her, surprised at the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

Her hands fidgeted in her lap as her nerves rose, and Draco placed his hand on top of them to still the jittery motion. She took a deep breath. "When you started at the ministry," she started, shifting so that her body was facing his completely, legs crossed in front of her. "You knew how I reacted to you, but you were always there when I needed someone to be. Why didn't you just look the other way?"

Draco hesitated for a moment, his eyes a cloudy mixture, and then smirked. "What kind of gentleman would I have been if didn't help a lady in need," he said in a forced, joking tone, and she knew he was trying to avoid the question.

"Draco."

At her serious face, he sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "Because I didn't help you when you actually needed it. I walked out of that room knowing exactly what they were going to do to you, and I did nothing." He swallowed thickly, and Hermione felt that old, familiar clenching in her chest, the trembling of her heart.

"You had no choice, Draco," she said shakily, placing her hand on his arm. He was incredibly tense, that muscle in his jaw ticking, and he was pointedly looking away from her at the setting sun. "They would have done worse to you if you had tried."

"I know that," he said tersely, and the regret shone darkly in his eyes like a scar. "But that didn't make it any easier to live with."

The lithe brunette grasped his hand in her smaller one, and he finally turned his eyes down to her, using his free hand to affectionately graze his knuckles across her cheek. "I never blamed you," she said softly. "And I was never angry at you for it."

"Of course you weren't, Granger," he said with a sad smile. "You're too good of a person for that. Sometimes I still think you're too good for me."

"Don't say that, Draco," she scolded, snuggling into his side, his arm dropping over her back to pull her closer. She breathed in deep. He always smelled like freshly washed clothes and her apartment. Home. "I couldn't be with anyone else. You're my person, you know."

She peeked up at him with big cinnamon eyes to see he was smiling to himself, almost goofily, but she knew how pleased he got whenever she reaffirmed his place in her life.

"You're my person too, Granger," he said fondly, and she smiled brightly, lifting her body out of its lethargic position against him to kiss him soundly on the mouth.

It wasn't _I love you_ , but it didn't have to be. It was even more than that.

* * *

"Oh," Hermione moaned as Draco greedily latched on to that perfect spot on her neck. "Draco, we shouldn't."

Her protest was weak, made even weaker by the breathy moans and violent shivers running down her spine. Her pristine white blouse was unbuttoned and pulled out of her gray pencil skirt, and her nipples pebbled when the bare skin of her stomach grazed the pale, wispy hairs on Draco's lower abdomen.

"Granger, we already are," he growled out. "You shouldn't have worn that damn skirt if you didn't want this to happen." To emphasize his approval, he roughly cupped her ass in his hands, hoisting her up against his office wall so that her legs went around his waist.

She gasped wantonly as the skirt was pushed up her legs to bunch at her hips, leaving the dampness of her red panties to press against his arousal. Draco kissed her hard and deep, and Hermione could sense the frustration in his touch, wondering what exactly was troubling him. Raking her nails down his sculpted chest, she deliberately ground her aching core against his rock hard member, and he hissed. His fingers were suddenly shoving her panties aside and thrusting up into her, causing her back to arc in pleasure. He had given her no warning or time to prepare, knowing she didn't need it as she was already dripping wet, and pistoned his fingers in and out of her at a rapid pace. Mewling and gasping helplessly, she gripped the silky strands of his hair, loving the way they felt soft and delicate beneath her fingers as he finger fucked her against the wall.

He withdrew his hand and she cried out in frustration, causing a smug smirk to decorate his strong face. Quickly, she helped him undo his pants, her entire body throbbing and screaming for release. Once his pants hung low and loose on his waist, she pulled his member free, smiling at the way he choked on a gasp as her hand moved over the smooth, heated flesh. Impatiently, he pushed her hand away and thrust into her weeping core, his head falling onto her shoulder at the way the silken flesh fit his large cock like a warm glove.

"Merlin, Draco, please move," she pleaded, a thin sheen of sweat coating her skin as she urged him forward with her heels.

He sprung to life at her lustful plea and, with one hand gripping her waist and the other high on her thigh, he pounded into her relentlessly, their pelvises colliding almost painfully. The slapping of their skin filled the messy office, and her eyes practically rolled back in her head as each thrust sent a thunderous wave of pleasure rolling over her. When she cried out too loudly, he shushed her with his lips on hers, aware that the silencing charm he'd cast hadn't been powerful enough to block the sounds of her tortured moans. She finally came with a searing explosion of euphoria, biting his shoulder to quiet herself as wave after wave of bliss crashed down on her. The pain of her teeth on his skin spurred him into his own orgasm, and he came powerfully with a violent shudder and a long groan.

Exhausted, the couple collapsed onto the floor, Draco managing to shift so that he could lean against the wall with Hermione still in his lap. The still trembling brunette leaned into him heavily, his chest heaving slightly against hers. They were quiet for several long moments as the tingling effects of their orgasms faded and their sluggish bodies came back to life. Draco lazily stroked Hermione's short hair as her head rested on her shoulder, and her hands slowly danced along the ridges of his spine beneath his open shirt.

"Are you going to tell me what's really going on?" she asked softly, leaning back to create eye contact with him. Despite his lethargy, his face was tense and his eyes hard.

Taking a deep, angry breath through his nose, he ran a hand along his face. "It's this fucking job. Look at all the shit they lay on us every day. This isn't making progress whatsoever." He motioned with his hand to his desk. Files and papers littered the dark mahogany and even the floors. It was a disaster. "And yours is even worse. Every day it's the same menial shit, and I hate it. And I absolutely hate the people we work with. They're stubborn, unmotivated, and completely unintelligent and then they have the nerve to wonder why shit isn't getting done. This place is a fucking disaster."

Hermione bit her lip, sympathizing one hundred percent with what Draco was saying as she felt it too. When Harry had returned home last week and began work at the Ministry, he confided in her that there was still a lot of work to be done, that the Ministry needed some drastic reforms but it seemed there was unwillingness and reluctance to get the ball rolling. It was certainly frustrating to walk into work every day and breathe the air of a stale, outdated system, but Hermione found that changes wouldn't be made unless there was a collective effort.

"It just takes time, Draco," she said, attempting to ease the tension in his shoulders with her hands. "There are still a lot of deep rooted prejudices in the Ministry, and it's hard to shift those perspectives."

"Bullshit, Granger," he practically spat, but the venom was fading from his eyes. "You hate this job as much as I do."

Hermione grimaced. "I don't _hate_ this job." At Draco's pointed glare, she sighed in defeat. "But I do admit I'm not quite happy here. We fought in a war though, Draco, and this is just the next phase." The blonde sighed, letting his head fall back to thump against the wall. "But I'm happy with you. And I'm happy with my friends. This job could never make me unhappy when I have you."

"Ditto, Granger," he said, running his hands all the flatness of her stomach. "But I still hate it here. So I hope you'll be willing to engage in more dirty trysts with me in this miserable office to keep me from going on a rampage."

"Always, Draco, always," she responded with a laugh, ushering him up off the floor to continue working and secretly hoping their discontent would fade without incident.

* * *

The night was unbelievably serene. A May breeze was dancing in the trees, creating soft music with the rustling leaves, and there wasn't a single cloud to disturb the glittering stars in their dark nest. Hermione was wide awake in Draco's large bed, her petite form covered by a thin, silky sheet as she lay on her side to stare out the window at the velvet sky. To her right, Draco lay equally alert, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It was three in the morning, and they should be sleeping, but their minds were restless, the atmosphere of the room filled with the same invisible tension that had existed between them for nearly a month. It wasn't a negative tension and certainly didn't impact the fire in the relationship, but it was always there, like a question waiting to be addressed.

"Run away with me."

Hermione shot up, clutching the sheet to her naked body as she turned to face Draco who was now sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, the silver glinting in his eye. "Run away with me."

"Run away? Where would we go?" Hermione asked, still shocked by his words. Her heart was thundering violently.

"Anywhere," he said grinning, a boyish excitement seeming to shine on his face. "You said you've always wanted to travel, so let's do it. Let's just go."

"Draco, we-we can't," she stuttered, her mind almost unable to catch up with Draco's idea. "We have responsibilities. We have jobs. We-"

"Fuck our responsibilities, Granger," he interrupted. "And most definitely fuck our jobs. We don't even like them. We're too young to be stuck like this." At her almost petrified expression, he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "Hermione, we've been fighting an adult's war for most of our lives. Half of the time we should've been worrying about pointless, childish shit we spent struggling with an evil that no child should ever face. When do we just get to be free?"

The brunette stared at him wide eyed, the waved strands of her hair tickling her bare shoulders as she bit her lip. They had never really been children. She, Harry, and Ron had always been too busy trying to outrun Voldemort's shadow, and Draco had always been under the suffocating influence of his father's cruel, watchful eye. Life hadn't waited for them to grow up, and the injustice of it was scorching.

"What about our families, our friends?" she asked nervously.

"Your parents would be ecstatic to see you go," Draco began, watching her carefully. "Potter's busy with the Ministry. Weasley's absorbed with the joke shop. My mother spends so much time with Mrs. Weasley gossiping, she may not even realize I'm gone, and Blaise and the Weaslette are so infatuated with each other that they would probably appreciate more time to spend with one another. We aren't going to disappear, Granger. We can visit and write as often as you wish and come back home as soon as we've had our fill of the world."

"But the money-"

"I have the money. We wouldn't have to worry about a thing."

"And my apartment-"

"Break your lease. Move your things into my house, and when we're done, we can return to our home together."

"And Crookshanks!

Draco growled. "Bring the damn thing with you! Don't try to reason yourself out of this, Granger. There are no excuses to hold you back. I know you want to do this. I can see it in your eyes."

It was true; she wanted it. The idea of just packing up and running away was terrifying and completely irresponsible, but it was absolutely thrilling. It made her arms shake, palms sweat, and tears gather in her eyes. There was a sudden flame ignited in her soul at the idea of absolute freedom, of plunging into the unknown headfirst with someone there to hold her hand and do it with her. Draco's eyes were stunningly bright, and he looked absolutely invigorated, _alive_. Is this how Harry and Ginny had felt that had so propelled them to escape? Had they been this scared?

Would she and Draco find the rest of themselves out there waiting for them?

Hermione's heart swelled with a blinding hope. Maybe this was the answer to that heavy, lingering question. She stared at Draco. He was so handsome sitting there in the dark, pale skin and pale hair lit by the glowing silver moon. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were intense, absolutely piercing her. If there was anyone she could do this with, it was him.

"So what do you say?" Draco asked hopefully, grabbing her hand gently and raising it to his mouth, his lips grazing the small tattoo on her wrist. "Fly away with me."

Her heart sang, stomach tingled, eyes teared, and breath shuddered.

"Okay."

So she did.

* * *

 **A/N** : Fin! Finally! One of these days, I'll write something that isn't so angsty but sometimes I just can't stop myself haha

Thanks for reading guys! :)


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